Need and Want
by chocfrgs4brkfst
Summary: "I don't want to be needed. I'm tired of being needed. Needed for the right answers in class, for homework. Needed to help Harry with whatever dangerous situation he's facing. Needed to fill a role at a Yule Ball. I don't want to be needed…I want to be wanted. To be the desire of someone's—Harry's—heart." Set just before their sixth year. Hermione's POV. COMPLETE!
1. Need and Want

Need and Want

 **Rating:** PG-13

 **Pairing:** Harry/Hermione

 **Summary:** Just before the sixth year of school begins, Harry comes to a realization in an unlikely way. Hermione's POV.

 **Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine. Not making any money, etc.

There he is. I haven't seen or heard from him for almost two months, and now twin urges are quarreling within me. Part of me wants to run to him. Throw my arms around him. _Remind him._ The other part wants to duck and run. Protect myself from him. He didn't respond to any of my letters all summer long…even when I begged.

But who am I kidding? A humorless smile briefly appears on my face. I wouldn't run away from him if he was on fire and I was covered in petrol. Still, I can't just pretend to myself that everything's all right. That I can take this for another year and be okay. Not anymore.

Hedwig is sitting in her carrier on top of the armoire, her amber eyes fixed on me. I hold my finger up to my lips and she blinks. Hedwig probably spent almost as much time at my home as she did at the Dursleys' this summer. _'Please come back soon even if he doesn't send anything,'_ I said so many times, as I fastened my parchments to her leg.

I'm not an impatient person. I'm really quite adept with things that require painstaking diligence over a length of time. I'm absolutely fantastic at doing all the things necessary and beyond to reach a goal. But relationships don't appear to work that way—at least, not with Harry Potter. Once you've completed 'A' and 'B', 'C' doesn't necessarily follow.

I hate feeling so out of control. Waiting. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand this, pouring so much of myself into him and having precious little response in return. A new school year will start tomorrow and I wonder if I have anything more to look forward to regarding Harry. Am I a coward for wanting it to be him who makes the first move? Am I a fool for waiting? I'm afraid that the answer to both questions is 'yes'.

I stand watching him in my indecision, suddenly realizing he's not really in the room with me anyway. I begin to understand the slight look of warning in Mrs. Weasley's eyes when she told me where he was. He's staring out the grimy window, unconsciously skimming the glass with his fingertips; reaching for something... He seems different to me somehow. Yes, I can see that he's grown a bit taller and he's certainly thinner from his months at the Dursleys, but I'm not talking about the physical here. It's just…him. Something's been added or taken away—I'm not sure which. Maybe both.

There's tension in the way he stands there, and the awful longing on his face chases away any lingering anger or hurt from my mind for the moment. In situations requiring courage or loyalty, he's the mountain that will not be moved. But in matters of the heart, he's absolutely unsure of himself. Fragile.

I'm grateful that Harry hasn't noticed my presence yet, because I'm entertaining the thought of quietly going back downstairs to join the others. They're probably getting ready to eat dinner in the pub area of The Leaky Cauldron. But then, my eyes are drawn abruptly down as an orange blur darts past me. ' _No, Crookshanks!'_ I gasp inwardly.

But Crookshanks scurries to Harry before I can grab him. Harry starts as he feels a gentle pressure winding around his legs. I'm surprised to see the intensity vanish from his face as he bends and greets Crookshanks fondly. Am I imagining it, or is my cat smirking at me as he purrs loudly against Harry's hand? Then, as though suddenly realizing that my cat doesn't usually travel alone, Harry's head snaps up, his eyes finding mine.

He says my name joyfully and I rush to his open arms. Big surprise. But then, my eyes widen as I feel his warm lips brush my cheek. Helplessly, I feel the hope that I've quashed for the past year begin to expand like my hair on a humid day. He's _never_ done anything like this before. I have to quell my instinctive response to pull back so I can see his face and analyze what he means by it.

Anyway, I'm too afraid I'll see what I've always seen, and choose to just enjoy this uncommon embrace as I feel Crookshanks weaving softly in and out of our legs. For once I'm quiet, afraid that what I'm thinking will pour right out of my mouth and drench us in awkwardness. When we finally release each other, all we can do is smile nervously for a moment while the air around us stirs with uncertainty.

"You've grown taller." I inwardly roll my eyes because I can't believe that these inane words are the first thing to come out of my mouth.

But he keeps his smile and nods, seemingly glad that the silence has been broken. "My back and legs have ached all summer." His smile fades just a bit. "You look a lot thinner, Hermione. You all right?"

I nod. But I can't help remembering the sleepless nights and the nervous stomach that plagued me all summer because of him and what he might be going through.

Then before I know it, I blurt out, "Why didn't you answer my letters? I've been so worried!" My voice sounds horribly plaintive and I immediately resolve to have my vocal chords removed. The miserable look that passes over his face makes me want to kick myself across the Thames and back. But it doesn't stop me from wanting an answer.

Harry is silent for a moment. His gaze reverts to the window, and he looks as though he'd like to go through it. I quickly grasp his arm and start to apologize, but he shakes his head and meets my eyes again. "I tried, Hermione," he answers quietly. "I'm really sorry. I just…couldn't." His voice fades as he lowers his head.

Tears prickle in my eyes and I can't help but gather him in my arms. I'm a little surprised when he doesn't end this embrace quickly. Instead, he seems to almost rest against me as though seeking comfort, which is very un-Harry like. And, though I've craved this closeness from him for so long, it worries me even more.

ooooo

Dinner is an interesting affair, all of us gathered around the pub's long table trying to draw Harry out. He's having none of it. He isn't rude in any way—he responds nicely to everyone's attempts to engage him in conversation but no one gets more than two or three sentences from him before he turns back to his food or asks someone to pass him a bowl of something that he doesn't intend to eat. He's hardly eaten anything—just keeps pushing his food around with his fork.

"You know, your chips haven't gotten 'The Plate Tour' yet." I whisper, keeping my voice and face as serious as I can. "I think they're about to protest."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." Harry nods, quickly prodding them with his fork. "Didn't mean to leave them out."

"Harry, you okay?" I say even more softly.

The corners of his lips quirk a bit and I can barely hear his response, "If I weren't, do you think I would tell you here?"

I shake my head and mouth, "Sorry."

Harry goes back to food shifting and I glance up to find Ron eyeing us from across the table. He lifts a questioning eyebrow and I shrug slightly in response. Ron's gaze switches to Harry and I know he's wondering the same thing I am: How much longer is Harry going to hold himself apart from us, and what's he hiding that's strong enough to separate us?

I resolve to find out, fully aware that it won't be easy. There's so much about Harry that I know. I've studied him long enough, for Heaven's sake. I can tell you almost exactly how he'll react in any given situation. I can tell you what frightens him and what makes him merely uncomfortable. I can tell you what he likes and what he wants, what he's good at and what needs work.

But I know next to nothing about Harry's past. And I don't mean what happened when he was one year and three months old. I'm talking about his time with the Dursleys. Yes, I know they mistreat him horribly—that's obvious. But as cowardly as it is, I'm not sure I want to know the details. Someday, yes. But right now it would wreck me. I watch him as he looks around the room but doesn't take it in. It's as though he's not seeing what we see, not where we are. I wish I could look through his eyes into his world. See the point of his separation. Understand.

All at once, I'm startled by the realization that Harry's looking quizzically at me. I feel warmth rush into my cheeks as I quickly lower my gaze to my plate, breaking my unintended stare. Ron's foot connects with my shin under the table and I lift my eyes to find him scowling at me. I decide I've had enough of both of them for today and, to everyone's surprise, I stand, quietly excusing myself as I begin to make my way upstairs.

ooooo

A clock quietly chimes once. I look up from my book and gaze into the softly crackling fire. _'There's not much better than a good book, a warm fire, and a comfy chair.'_ I shift position a bit in the chair and return my attention to the page in front of me, but then my head snaps up as I hear a creak from the stairs.

I slowly close _The Standard Book of Advanced Spells_ as I hear another creak, closer this time. Rising quickly to my feet, I gaze around the pub, but the only light I have is from the fire in the grate. I know Harry is somewhere in this room even though I can't see him…I _know_ it _._

I say his name softly, but get no answer. _'Bloody Invisibility Cloak!'_ My hands swipe at the air in front of me, and I begin stepping forward, continuing to reach in front of me. If anyone else saw me right now, they'd think I've gone mental, but I don't care.

I can strangely feel his movements and I know I'm closing in on him—backing him into the long wooden table where we eat our meals. Sure enough, I hear the table shift and creak, and my hand finally makes contact with the fluid material that I know covers Harry. As I begin to slide it from him, I realize that he's actually crouching _on_ the table and my lips twitch into a smirk.

"Damn it, Hermione!" Harry whispers exasperatedly, obviously not amused. "What're you _doing_ down here?" he growls as he hops down from the table and yanks the cloak from my hands.

My eyebrows disappear into my fringe. "I asked Tom if I could read in the pub so I wouldn't keep Ginny up. What are _you_ doing down here?" I toss back at him.

The look on his face is defiant and after a long moment he says, "I'm going out."

"What d'you mean, 'you're going out'?" I whisper heatedly as my hands go to my hips.

"I mean I'm going _out_!" He glares at me and jabs his finger in the direction of the door.

"You are _not_!"

"Do you think you can stop me?"

I want to wipe the smirk off his face but instead, I raise an eyebrow and stare into those green eyes. It's a bluff, but I'd rather not get into a duel with Harry. I know I might not win.

Apparently, he's had the same thought because, after a long moment, he changes tack. "Hermione, please…" His voice now wheedles, paired with a look on his face designed to soften me. But I'm not buying it. Yet.

"Why?" I ask folding my arms across my chest. "It's not safe."

"I'll be under the cloak—no one will see me."

"Where are you going?"

"I just want to go for walk," he says quietly. "To get away for a bit. Not long, I promise."

"Honestly, you don't even know your way around Lon—"

"I won't get lost, and even if I do, I'll just call the Knight Bus to bring me back here.

"Harry…"

" _Please_ ," he whispers, his eyes imploring mine, "I need to get away from here for just a little bit."

I'm folding and I know it. I hold his gaze for a moment then nod. "But only if you take me with you."

Harry blinks as though surprised by my acquiescence and subsequent demand, but then finds his voice. "No."

"If you want to go, you will."

" _Really."_ The defiance is back in his eyes and his voice.

"Yes, _really_." I wrack my brain, then my lips curve into a small smile. "I know what charms they used to lock the door…and how to unlock them. Feel free to try it, but you'll set off an unholy alarm if you use the wrong spell or so much as touch the handle right now."

Harry's eyes narrow as he realizes he's between me and a hard place. "All right," he says shortly. "You can come. But two conditions: you can't talk about this world," Harry glances up and around The Leaky Cauldron, then back to me, and his gaze is pointed. "And you can't ask me how I'm doing."

Although I don't like the terms, I nod, realizing that Harry needs some control here. "I need to go and get my trainers," I say. "Do you promise to wait for me?" I know full well that Harry's clever enough to figure another way out that doesn't use the door.

"Yes."

I start up the steps, then turn back and lock eyes with Harry. "If you're not here when I get back, so help me…"

"I said I'd wait," he returns impatiently, "so hurry up."

Trying not to wake Ginny, I hastily pull on my shoes, grab my wand, and quietly hurry back down. But there's no sign of Harry anywhere. Anger and fear begin to course quickly through me, and to my consternation, I feel the quick sting of tears in my eyes. _'How could he?'_ Then, I feel a poke in my ribs, but I'm in no mood to giggle. Relief washes through me, but leaves me feeling hollow.

Harry removes his cloak and comes around to face me, smirking. "I said I'd wait. Don't you trus—" He notices my watery eyes. "Hey," he says softly as his face falls. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

I just shake my head. "Let's go," I say removing the locking spells as I walk toward the door until I notice Harry's not walking with me. I turn around and he's rooted to his spot, staring at me perplexedly.

"Are you coming or not?" I ask flatly with a tilt of my head. He nods, finally starting towards me and, after he carefully covers us both with the Invisibility Cloak, we walk into the night together.

ooooo

The air is thick and moist, swirling around our feet like a cloudy potion. "Which way do you want to go?" I whisper as we stand on the damp pavement. I can tell I'm going to have trouble ignoring how close our bodies are going to be on this 'walk'.

Harry shrugs glancing up and down the street. "What d'you think?"

"Trafalgar Square is that way." I gesture tentatively to our left.

Harry nods. "That's fine, then."

And we begin making our way south down Charring Cross Road. I wonder why there aren't more people about on a weekend night, but then I realize that it's past time for the Underground to be running. Soon, I can see the grand staircase and columns of St. Martin-in-the-Fields. I can't help but smile. I love that place. When I was growing up, my mum and I would sometimes come into London on a day trip during my hols from school. We always tried to catch one of the free lunchtime concerts if it was on the right weekday.

Harry notices my smile and raises his eyebrows. "What?" he asks softly.

I quietly tell him about the concerts and end with "…and Mozart and Handel actually performed here. And there's a café down in the crypt under the church. My mum and I liked to eat there after the concerts."

"Sounds a little morbid."

"Yes, but it's not really. It's a little dark, but the food is wonderful. I guess I just didn't think much about having my chair resting on someone's grave while I was eating." Wanting to get away from the subject of death, I say, "Do you see the clock face up on the steeple?" Harry cranes his neck along with me. "I don't know if you can tell in the dark or not but it's the most beautiful color of blue."

We begin to walk down the sloping pavement beside the wall of the open area where Lord Nelson's Column is surrounded by huge black lions and curving fountains. In the silence, I become uncomfortably aware of Harry's closeness to me. I wonder how much longer the cloak will be able to cover more than one of us.

I feel Harry shift and I turn to see what he's doing. Suddenly his breath is warming my nose and warning sirens sound through my mind. Our eyes meet for a strange moment and I audibly swallow the tension that has quickly expanded in my throat. Harry looks away first, but not before an odd look briefly shadows his face.

"What's that building?" He asks a little too quickly, pointing toward the large white structure on the north side of the square.

"That's the National Gallery of Art. It's another one of my favorites."

Harry nods. "Looks familiar. I think I remember going there on a school daytrip when I was younger. A guide took us from room to room and I remember sitting on the floor with my classmates while she told us about one of the paintings."

"Can you remember which one?"

Harry shakes his head. "I can't remember the name. I do remember that the painting was mostly dark except for the light that surrounded a woman and a blind man. It was coming from a curved window in between them." He's silent for a moment then added quietly, "I thought the light was beautiful."

"Sounds like _Anna and the Blind Tobit_ by Rembrandt," I say softly, inexplicably moved.

"Yeah…now I remember…the woman is sitting with her blind husband—they were waiting for something. And the light meant that God's still watching over us even through hard things…" Harry's voice trails off and he looks away.

"That's right," I say quietly, knowing he's trying with difficulty to hide how much that thought affected him. "How old were you when you saw that painting?"

"Eight or nine." Harry shrugs, emotions back under control. But still, he turns to gaze back at the gallery with a look in his eyes that I can't quite read. "Maybe we can go back there some day. I'd like to see it again."

"I would too," I respond and we turn to continue southeast down Northumberland Avenue in silence. In my mind I'm picturing a very young Harry in the museum and I can't help but want to wrap my arms around that lonely child with his baggy clothes and kiss the top of his messy charcoal hair. I shake my head slightly at myself. Silly.

After a bit Harry confesses, "I've been out walking almost every night this summer."

"That was really dangerous, Harry!" I turn my head to look at him incredulously. "You could've been atta—"

"Don't forget what you agreed to, Hermione!" Harry says sharply and his gaze is flinty.

"I just…" Harry's glare is enough to make the words die in my throat.

"Look, I couldn't just stay in that house—in that room—all summer long, okay?" His voice grows quieter but not softer. "I almost went crazy the first few nights by myself with my memories running through my dreams…I had to do something before I absolutely lost my mind. So one night, I snuck out. And I walked for hours."

I keep silent knowing that if I try to speak, I might cry, and I'm so tired of my tears. That's the last thing Harry needs right now. It's the last thing I need right now, too.

"Walking was the only thing that helped," Harry continues, turning his head back to look straight ahead. "So every night, I waited until the Dursleys were asleep. I began walking at night and sleeping during the day."

Since Harry was the one to open this subject, I ask, "Did the Dursleys mind you sleeping all day?" I also wonder if the Order realized that Harry was going on these excursions, but don't dare voice that question.

He shrugs. "They let me whether they did or not. Guess Moody's little talk with Uncle Vernon at King's Cross helped me out there." Harry smiles wryly, then his face softens as he glances back at me. "Thanks for all your letters. Really. I'm sorry I didn't answer them but they helped, so don't think they didn't matter to me…they did."

We cross Victoria Embankment and walk onto the footbridge that crosses the Thames.

"I'm glad they helped," I finally respond, feeling the hurt I thought had gone, rising again. I don't mean to be selfish but I could've used some help this summer, too. "Sounds like a lonely summer, though."

Harry lifts a shoulder and nods. "I got some studying done and I had a lot of time to think. At first, I couldn't get the visions of that night at the Ministry out of my mind." He pauses for a moment as though deciding whether or not to go on, then continues. "But I began going back through our school years one by one, starting from that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. I tried to remember every detail—forced my mind to think about those memories instead."

We've stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning against the railing, looking out over the swiftly moving water. There's a cool breeze sneaking under the cloak and we automatically move closer into each other's warmth.

"I was reminded of things I hadn't thought about in years." An amused smile flits across his face. "Remember Neville's lost toad on the train our first year?"

I chuckle softly. "Yes, but actually, the thing that I remember most about that day was meeting you."

Harry scrunches his nose in surprised disbelief. "Me…why _?_ "

"Well, you were _The_ _Harry Potter_ , after all. I'd read about you in several books."

Harry snorts, shaking his head and asks, "So, did I live up to all the hype?"

"Nope."

"Oh, really." Harry raises his eyebrows.

"Well, you certainly weren't what I was expecting…"

"Should I be offended?" Harry's eyebrows knit together now.

"Oh, good grief," I laugh, lightly punching his arm.

"Ow!" Harry rubs his arm with a small smile, pretending to be in pain.

"See?" I laugh again. "Some hero!"

"Well, what you see is what you get, I guess." His voice has become strangely serious and I feel him shift slightly away from me. "Hopefully I'll be able to live up to the hero thing later on."

My eyes snap to his at this sudden change in demeanor. "Harry?" I ask, trying to keep eye contact with him. "What's wrong? Did I say something?"

Harry shakes his head then looks back at the dark water. "I'm fine."

' _Yeah, right.'_ I think as I turn fully toward him, knowing there's something much deeper he's dealing with that he hasn't shared with Ron or me. "Don't lie to me. What happened just then?"

Harry is silent for a bit, as though debating with himself, then begins, "You know, as I was reliving the past five years in my mind, I began to realize something." His head lifts slowly and he turns to face me. "So many times…I couldn't have gotten along without you. So…thanks."

A bit surprised, I lean into him slightly and nod; fully realizing that he hasn't answered my question. I know his words should make me feel happy…but they don't. They aren't what I really want to hear. So…some part of Harry has realized that he needs me. I gaze at the river moving past us. People need water. Need it for all sorts of things. Would die without it. But do they even think about it when they don't need it?

I don't want to be needed. I'm tired of being needed. Needed for the right answers in class, for homework. Needed to help Harry with whatever dangerous situation he's facing. Needed to fill a role at a Yule Ball. I don't want to be needed… _I want to be wanted._ To be the desire of someone's—Harry's—heart. I want to fill Harry's mind so that he can't think of anything else. Not Quidditch, not Sirius, not Voldemort.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice breaks through my thoughts and to my surprise, I feel his arm around me. The only time he ever initiates anything like this is when my life is in imminent danger.

"You okay?" He asks, his eyes searching mine with concern. Now it's my turn to conceal the truth. "I'm fine."

We both stare at each other, knowing that neither is being honest. I can tell Harry's still hiding something—something important. But I'm not going to try and pry it out of him. I can tell he's wondering what I'm hiding, too. Good.

"I guess we'd better be getting back." Harry breaks the silence and disappointment seeps through me as I feel his arm slide from around my waist.

I nod then we turn together and begin the walk back in silence.

ooooo

I can hear commotion around me as I resist breaking through the fog that permeates my sleepy brain. I want to stay in my warm bed, but someone is shaking my shoulder.

"Hermione," I hear Ron's urgent voice. "Wake up! We can't find Harry."

This information burns right through the sleepy haze and I sit bolt upright, nearly knocking heads with Ron. _"What?"_

Ron's face comes into focus and although I can tell he's curious as to why I've slept in my clothes, he answers, "Harry. He's gone. We've looked all through the pub and my parents and the twins are looking through Diagon Alley right now."

"Oh, no…" I begin worriedly, trying to disentangle myself from my covers as my stomach plummets. But then a memory from last night flashes through my mind and, suddenly, I have a good idea of where he might be.

"What time is it?" I ask quickly swinging my legs off my bed, trying to locate my shoes with my feet.

"Just a bit before ten…where're you going?" he demands as I stand up and speed across the room to the door.

"I have an idea _._ " Ron's hot on my heels as I clamor down the steps. As the main room of the pub comes into view, Remus looks up from the table to see who's causing the commotion on the stairs.

"Hermione thinks she knows where Harry is," Ron calls from behind me.

Remus' gaze sharpens and he stands to follow me as I head for the door to the street. I turn quickly back to Ron and him. "Please just let me go. If he's not where I think he is, I'll come right back."

Remus shakes his head. "You can't go out there by yourself. I'm coming with you." He turns to Ron. "Please go find your parents and tell them that Hermione and I will be back in just a bit, and hopefully with Harry."

I can tell by Ron's face that he wants to argue that he should come with us but, after only a brief hesitation, he turns and hurries toward the backdoor and the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Remus and I start quickly down Charring Cross. When we get to Trafalgar Square, I turn right and head for the art gallery. Before I start up the steps, I turn to Remus. "Will you please wait here? If he's not in there, I'll be right back out, I promise."

Remus hesitates, not wanting to let me go alone, but finally acquiesces and I turn and hurry through the front doors. I rush through the crowds of tourists sauntering through the gallery on a Sunday morning, working my way to the back of the building. I turn left just before I reach it, then right, then left again. My eyes dart around the area.

There he is. Standing just where I thought he would be. I walk slowly to him and stand by his side, not knowing what to say. He continues to gaze at the painting but I know he's aware that I'm there.

After a long moment he says, "Do you believe in God?"

I wasn't expecting anything like this. It takes me awhile, but I finally reply, "Yes, generally. It's the daily thing I have trouble with."

Harry nods, seeming to understand my answer and he grows quiet.

"You're right," I say softly, after a bit, as my eyes follow his gaze. "The light is beautiful."

"Yeah, but Tobit can't see it."

"Surely he can feel the warmth of it, at least."

Harry shrugs and after a long moment says, "I feel sorry for Anna. I imagine she doesn't have much of a life of her own, taking care of Tobit and all. He needs her a lot more than she needs him."

" _What?"_ I say incredulously and he finally looks at me. "Harry, we all need people. I don't see it that way at _all_." I want to weep, realizing that he thinks he has nothing to offer—thinks he's a liability to the ones he cares about because of what's happened in his past and what might happen in his future.

I continue, holding his gaze, "I think Anna's glad to be with Tobit, happy that she can share her life with him…but not because he needs her. I think her feelings for him are so much deeper than that and based on something entirely different.

Harry looks back at the painting and after a moment, his eyes widen slightly. What happens next makes me almost lightheaded. First, a look of astonishment builds in his eyes, then his lips curve gradually to a tentative, almost disbelieving smile. He slowly turns to me, and suddenly I'm having just a bit of trouble breathing properly. I've waited for this for so long and now that it's so close…

I make a split-second decision. For better or for worse, I want to _know_. "Remember last night, when I said that you weren't what I was expecting when I first met you on the train?" I say a little breathlessly.

Harry nods mutely, looking unsure of where I'm going with this.

"Well, you've become so much more…so much better than what I expected."

His lovely green eyes are fixed on mine and I hear him say softly, "So have you."

I smile shyly and a grin slowly grows on his face in response. After a bit the intensity becomes too much.

"We need to go," I say. "Remus is outside waiting for us, and we need to get to King's Cross soon."

Harry seems to come to his senses, and we rush outside to find Remus pacing on the sidewalk in front of the stairs. When he sees us, a huge look of relief spreads across his face and he bounds forward saying, "Thank God!"

"Harry, don't do that again." Remus adds very seriously, grasping Harry's shoulder.

Harry shakes his head contritely. "I won't. I'm sorry…I didn't mean to worry anyone."

"I'm just glad you're all right. No harm done, then." Remus gives Harry's shoulder a last squeeze then turns and begins to lead us back up the street to The Leaky Cauldron. He walks just a few paces ahead of us, as though somehow aware that something is different between Harry and me.

I feel a spark run up my arm as Harry's fingers brush mine while we walk. The next time our hands meet, two of his fingers tangle into mine and stay. I turn to him, seeing something wonderfully new in his eyes as he looks back at me, and I take all of his hand into mine.

ooooo

If you'd like to see the painting, _Anna and the Blind Tobit_ , mentioned in the story, you can find it here:

. /paintings/rembrandt-anna-and-the-blind-tobit


	2. The Rest of the Day

**The Rest of the Day**

Harry glances at me as we reach The Leaky Cauldron and, by silent agreement, we release each other's hand. This is too new, and we're not quite ready to share this part of us with others. Not ready for questions that we don't know the answers to yet.

Remus opens the pub door, revealing a very worried group of people huddled around the long wooden table. We're greeted by sighs of relief, and Harry is pulled into a hug by Mrs. Weasley, even as she begins to scold him. By the look on Ron's face, I can tell he's wondering how I knew where Harry was.

I sneak my way past and hurry up the steps, pausing once to look back. Harry's eyes are following me up the stairs, pleading with me to save him. My gaze shifts to Remus, who nods slightly, and then reminds Molly that Harry needs to finish packing. Remus seems to have things under control, so I continue up the stairs.

After one of the quickest showers ever, my clothes are changed, my hair's managed as best as possible, and my trunk is one of several piled by the door. I hear footsteps on the stairs and turn to see Harry walking slowly down, his eyes on mine. Suddenly there's a commotion behind him, and Ron and Ginny step onto the landing, embroiled in a full-throttle argument about who-knows-what. Harry hurries down the steps now, probably not wanting to be in their way, with the Weasley temper they both possess.

Harry comes and stands just behind me, his chest lightly warming my back. I barely shift to press into him, and I feel him lean slightly into me. This interaction on our part is slight enough that no one looking would ever suspect anything. But my heart is beating faster.

We both startle as the pub door swings open sharply and Remus leans in. "Sorry," he says, his eyes darting to Ron and Ginny, who are still in a red-faced, heated conversation. Remus raises his voice a bit to get their attention. "Everyone 'bout ready? Moody's here with the car."

It seems odd to me that we only need one car, and then I realize there are only four of us going back to Hogwarts this year. I know it's odd, but I don't think it's settled into my mind yet that Fred and George won't be at school with us ever again. I know they left last year, and in a very spectacular way, but what with O.W.L.s, and that night at the Ministry, I don't think I had the chance to get used to the idea that they were really gone. I turn to Harry and murmur, "We'd better get our things."

Remus has managed to distract Ron and Ginny from their bickering by getting them to help load their trunks, but they're still obviously angry. I'd rather not know why.

"Strange not to have Fred and George, isn't it?" Harry asks quietly.

I nod, meeting his eyes with a slight smile.

All of our luggage is finally stowed in the back of the car and, although the car has been charmed to be bigger on the inside, we're still a bit packed in. Not that I mind from where I'm sitting, because Harry and I made sure we ended up beside each other. I've been this close to him before, but not like this. His side is pressed against mine, our arms are brushing, and it's absolutely intentional.

I've felt this kind of lovely feeling before when he's touched me—when we were just friends. But now…now that Harry's deliberately touching me…it's as though every nerve I have is sharply tuned to him. Tingly just begins to describe it. We glance sidelong at each other, and I feel warmth blossoming in my cheeks.

I've got Crookshanks in his carrier by my feet, and Harry is holding Hedwig's cage. She appears to be watching us intently, and I smile at her. Am I imagining things, or does she glance down at our hands (which are as near to each other as they can be without touching), and then look back at me with questioning eyes? I give her a small nod, just in case.

Hedwig is still for a moment, and then reaches her beak through one of the gaps in her cage. Harry smiles, opens the door to her cage and strokes her head. She nibbles his fingers gently, and then hoots softly and nudges his hand in my direction with her beak. The look on his face is priceless, as he realizes what Hedwig is trying to do. "Smart girl," he murmurs to her and winks, closing her cage. I'm not sure why I'm amazed that she winks back.

After a moment, Harry surprises me and leans as though to look out the window, bringing our faces wonderfully close. No warning bells sound in my head this time. I can smell the warm scent of his skin, and I soundlessly breathe in as deeply as I can. In fact, if I lean forward just an inch or two, my nose would be touching his cheek. If he turned his head toward me just a bit, his lips…well, best not to think about that just now.

Harry's eyes flicker over to me, and a small smile lifts the corners of his mouth as though he knows the thoughts that I just had to quell. My cheeks are warming again. He pulls back and shifts in his seat, turning his head and shoulders toward me to look out the back window. I'm unable to stifle a shiver as his nose barely brushes my ear, and I hear and feel him inhale.

"Oy, Harry, you're crowding Hermione," I hear Ron's voice suddenly break in. His voice sounds a bit tense. I inwardly roll my eyes as Remus and Mrs. Weasley turn around to see what's going on.

Harry shifts back in his seat, looks my way, and says, "Oh, sorry, Hermione." But the look on his face tells me he's not sorry at all.

"It's all right—we're all a bit packed in here," I shrug, the look in my eyes trying to covertly convey to Harry that I didn't mind one bit. Mrs. Weasley and Remus turn back around, apparently satisfied that Harry's not molesting me.

We all pile out at King's Cross, and Moody quickly commandeers some luggage trolleys.

I stand holding Crookshanks' carrier, waiting by the back of the car to get my things, when Harry hands Hedwig's cage to me saying, "If you'll take care of her for me, I'll get your trunk."

I smile and nod. "Thanks." This feels oddly nice. I turn and find Ginny gazing curiously at us. She lifts her eyebrows slightly, but I slide past her and stand to the side, waiting for Harry and the others.

We hurry to the platform and, after quick goodbyes, stow our things in one of the last compartments, as usual. _Are the Weasleys ever early for anything?_ The Hogwarts Express lurches as it begins its journey. Ron and I don our robes quickly, and then fasten on our prefect's badges. We've got to go to our meeting in one of the carriages close to the front of the train, and, if we're not careful, we're going to be late. _Are Harry and I going to have any more time alone together today?_ I lock eyes with him briefly and say, "We'll be back as soon as we can, all right?"

"See you in a bit, then," Harry replies with a nonchalant voice, but his gaze betrays his feelings. "Anything you'd like from the snack trolley, in case you're not back when she comes by?"

"Anything's fine," I answer, trying to show him with my eyes that I'd rather stay with him. "Surprise me."

Harry nods, glances at Ron now, and says, "See you guys later, then."

I muster a smile, and then turn to follow Ron, who's looking between us with what seems to be a wary gaze. I prod his arm just a bit, and we set off for the Head Boy's and Girl's carriage.

Ron's oddly quiet as I find us two seats together. The prefect's meeting goes on for a bit, but since most of what's being said is old information to me, I let my mind wander. _Harry this…hmmm…Harry that._ I love being able to think about him like this now; imagining him in different circumstances and settings…romantic ones, naturally. I realize that my breathing is a bit faster than usual, and…oh, my…I'd better stop these mental images. Right now.

 _How am I going to pay attention in class when all that my mind wants to do is think of Harry?_ Of course, I've been in this situation before, but it was when he was in some sort of danger. This feels entirely different. _Will I be able to concentrate on my studies with him sitting right beside me?_

To my surprise, these reflexive thoughts don't really bother me as much as I would expect them to. I shrug mentally, and my lips quiver as I struggle to control the grin that wants to spread over my face. I never imagined how fabulous this would actually feel. I mean, I _have_ imagined what it would be like to have Harry return my feelings, but my imaginings were powdery and pale compared to th—I startle, as Ron elbows me in the side to get my attention. He rolls his eyes at me, obviously enjoying the fact that he got to remind me to pay attention for once, instead of the other way around. _Prat._ Let a girl have her moment. It's been a long time coming.

The meeting finally ends, and Ron and I make our way back to our carriage. I'm having to control myself so I don't knock anyone down as I hurry along the corridor.

" _Hermione,"_ Ron breaks into my thoughts, putting his hand on my arm. His voice is oddly loud.

"What?"

"Slow down! I was asking you about patrolling the hall—do you want to go first or second?" he says, frowning. "You're acting really odd today. What's going on?"

"Sorry," I apologize, trying to look contrite while sidestepping his question, and sidling around a small group of girls. "I'll take second shift, if that's okay."

Ron nods, still watching me. "I'm just going to have a bit of a snack and go, then."

We walk into our compartment and my eyes quickly scan the people, but no Harry. Hedwig's eyeing me, and I cast around for Crookshanks, whom I spot sitting contentedly in Ginny's lap.

"Where's Harry?" I try to ask as casually as I can, sitting next to Luna as Ron plops down by Neville.

"He's gone to have a kip in the next compartment," Ginny answers, scratching my purring cat behind the ears as he kneads her leg with his paws. "He was really tired, and it was fortunately empty. He left these for you, though." She hands me a bag full of assorted treats from the trolley, and I thank her, feeling a bit deflated as Ron hurries back out the door stuffing a last bit of pumpkin pasty in his mouth. I can certainly understand Harry being worn out after we were up so late, and he got up earlier than I did. I realize I'm starting to feel a little sleepy myself.

Ginny apparently notices my disappointment, and leans forward to whisper, "He may not be asleep yet. Why don't you slip next door and see?"

I nod and give her a small smile, which she returns as I stand to leave. Peeking in the window of the next compartment, I see Harry sprawled across the set of seats on the right side. His head is resting on his right arm, and his left arm is dangling over the side of the seat. Sliding the door open as noiselessly as possible, I step in lightly and close it behind me.

Harry's eyes are closed; his back gently rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I tiptoe over to the seats across from him and lower my self slowly, stretching out on my side, using my arm as my pillow. My lips spread into a smile as I gaze at Harry's peaceful face, and I'm happy being able to observe him to my heart's content, with no worry of him or anyone else watching.

Some of his hair has fallen across his face. My fingers reflexively stretch towards him just a bit, longing to run through those wayward strands and smooth them back. His dark lashes lie on his cheeks. I can see what look like faint smudges under his eyes, telling the tale of sleepless nights. Harry's face has gotten a bit thinner; sharper and more defined. But his lips look so…soft. I'm surprised at the way I feel so drawn to them, and I have to stop myself from sliding off the seat and waking him up. But I know he needs sleep, and quickly switch my gaze to his hands.

I remember how wonderful it felt to hold his hand this morning; to have that tangible connection with him. His hand felt so sturdy and strong in mine this morning, but there has always been a gentle skilfullness in the way they move. I've sometimes had to almost shake myself when we've been studying together and I've gotten lost watching his hands as they skim across the pages of a book, or as they move his quill across his parchment while he writes. Then, there's the way those hands control his Firebolt—the subtlest of touches sending him hurtling in any direction he desires. And the way those hands capture the Snitch. I think they could catch lightning, if they wanted; but I can think of other things I'd like to watch those hands do.

He's so…lovely. Not perfect by any means—but lovely. I know that he would be absolutely embarrassed at hearing himself described in this way, but it's exactly how I feel. I just wish there was some way to let him know this without resorting to words that would cause him to blush and look away, or actions neither of us are quite comfortable with at this point.

It's amazing, being in here with him right now, just the two of us. It feels comfortable, but exciting at the same time. There's this wonderful current of anticipation running through me, and I could just live on that for a while—it feels like waiting for my birthday. Just yesterday, I was so sure that I had nothing to look forward to with Harry but more hurt and disappointment. Things have changed so quickly, part of me feels a bit nervous, wondering if this is truly happening.

I'm becoming vaguely aware that I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open, and my thoughts are becoming drifty with the slight rocking motion of the train. I feel my body sink further into the cushions and I'm glad for the cloudiness that gentles the sunshine. Maybe just a little rest and then…

Mmmm…I stretch, feeling very content. The sunlight feels warm on my face and my eyes open slowly, adjusting to the brightness. As they begin to focus, I see Harry's face not too far from mine. He's sitting on the floor between the seats with his back leaning up against the wall below the window; his hair is gilded by the light streaming through the glass. I reach out my hand to him. He takes it in his, and then begins to explore it gently with his thumb. How can such a small thing cause my heart to race like this?

I lift my eyes from our hands to find Harry gazing at me, measuring my response, and I begin to stroke his hand slowly with my fingers. His eyes lower to watch our hands move together for a moment, then lift to look back at me, a small smile curving his lips.

"I never dreamed..." he says softly.

"I had almost stopped," I whisper back with a small smile.

He becomes still as the implication of my words settle in, and then asks gently, "Do you want to talk about this?"

I shake my head, surprising us both. As he resumes caressing my hand with his thumb, I realize I've come to the conclusion that words are overrated. The clouds apparently shift and the light in our compartment grays. A look passes across his face, similar to the one I saw last night on the footbridge.

"There _is_ something we need to talk about, actually," he says quietly, casting his eyes down to our joined hands, "before we get any further."

I feel a chill skitter up my spine. This is _it_ —I know it. The thing that he's been holding inside; the thing that's been a wedge in his relationships these past two months. This is what I thought I wanted to know so badly last night at dinner. Now…I'm not so sure.

"What –" I ask hesitantly.

"This isn't the right time or place," Harry shakes his head, and then looks up at me. "Can we talk later—maybe after the feast?"

I nod, trying not to let my anxiety show, and say, "Of course." Gripping his hand a bit more firmly, and holding his gaze, I add, "But I want you to know that nothing you can say to me will change my feelings for you."

Harry nods, a ghost of a smile curving his lips as the sunlight ribbons into our compartment again. "Thanks," he says quietly and we go back to concentrating on each other's hands.

After a few moments, the door to our compartment suddenly slides open, and Ron fills the gap. The look on his face is…interesting. I can tell that he's noticed our joined hands, and by the look on his face, he's flummoxed by it.

"What's going on…what're you doing?" Ron says hesitantly, looking from our hands to Harry and then to me. I start to feel a bit nervous as I see some pinkness creeping into his ears.

"We're just talking," Harry replies calmly, releasing my hand, and something in his voice lets Ron know that it's not okay to ask more questions right now.

"Well…it's your turn to patrol, Hermione," Ron says, still standing in the doorway with an odd look on his face. "Er…I'm famished, so I guess I'll head back next door and see what's left from the trolley, then."

"See you in a moment," Harry nods, as Ron turns and leaves.

After Ron is out of earshot, Harry turns to me and says disquietedly, "Well…telling him about us is going to be strange, I think."

I nod, feeling my stomach knot just a bit. "Let's leave that for tomorrow."

I've been in such a hurry most of the day that I've not had time to stop to consider how Ron might feel. I can tell by the look on Harry's face that he hasn't either. There hasn't been time for _us_ to fully comprehend what's happened between us today, let alone how it might affect someone else.

"Well," I say, sitting up with a small smile. "I guess I'd better get a move on. Halls to patrol, miscreants to deal with, you know."

Harry grins. "Hermione Granger—keeper of the peace."

"Yeah, that's me," I roll my eyes and stand, and then say softly, "I'd so much rather stay here.

Harry stands with me, taking both of my hands in his. "I'd like that, too, but I'll be here when you get back." He runs his thumbs over the backs of my hands before releasing them. "See you in a bit."

I begin my trek up and down the train's corridor. If the other students knew how I felt right now, they'd not risk any mischief. My nerves feel like they've all congregated in the pit of my stomach, worrying about what Harry wants to talk about later. However, I don't really want to be known as "Hermione the Horrible" to the first years, so I try to improve my attitude as much as I can. But all I can think as I glance into the compartments that I pass is, _'This is keeping me from Harry.'_

When I finally make it back to our compartment, I'm disappointed to find that it's empty. I find Harry back in with everyone else, and the only seat is next to Neville. Oh, well. There's really not time to sit down anyway. It's dark and everyone has their robes on now. The train starts to slow, and we all begin to gather our things.

The train finally comes to a lurching stop and we disembark. The sight of Hogsmeade Station causes conflicting emotions in me. I'm glad to be back at school, but I feel quite uneasy about what this year may bring in the struggle against Voldemort. The carriages, which I now know are being pulled by Hagrid's Thestrals, are waiting for us. I feel Harry pause in mid step as his eyes take them in, knowing full well that he's remembering why can see odd creatures.

"Harry," I murmur, trying to distract him, "Will you go ahead and get a carriage for all of us? I'll be there in a moment."

He nods, seemingly grateful to have something else to think about, and gently lifts Crookshanks' carrier from my hand, saying, "I'll take him for you."

He and Neville head toward the nearest empty carriage with Ginny and Luna following closely behind. Ginny's trying to quiet a very hyper Pigwidgeon, who's zooming from side to side in his cage. Luna beckons Ginny to hand the cage to her, and the tiny owl finally begins to quiet as Luna croons to him.

After all the younger students are in a carriage, I call to Ron, and motion for him to follow me to the carriage I know the others are in. I clamber in and sink down next to Harry in the semi-darkness, making sure to spread the side of my robes between us just a bit. His hand is resting on the seat between us, now covered by my robes, and I slide my fingers between his. I feel a gentle squeeze as he turns to me, but his face betrays nothing.

The others around us are chattering about something. Harry's thumb slips between our hands to explore my palm. I've never realized before now how sensitive that part of my hand is. My lower lip suddenly begins to feel uncomfortable. I realize I've got it clamped between my teeth and quickly release it.

"Harry!" Ron's voice breaks through, as my eyes snap to his along with Harry's, neither of us realizing how long we'd been looking at each other. He's looking at us suspiciously, his eyes glancing to the small space between us where our hands are joined, hopefully still covered.

Ron continues with a tinge of frustration in his voice, "I've asked you two times what you think they'll be having for the feast tonight. What is with you and Hermione? You've seemed miles away all day."

"Sorry," Harry replies contritely, trying to appease our best friend. "Guess I'm just tired. I'm sure the feast will be great as always. Hungry?"

Ron finally smiles, and nods, as he shifts Pigwidgeon's cage on his lap. "Yeah."

"Me, too," Harry grins back, and squeezes my hand once more before our carriage rolls to a stop.

The feast seems to last for ages. Harry and I don't dare show any clue of our feelings in front of so many people. We sit across from each other and I do my best do not to look at him more than necessary, but this is much harder than I thought it would be. As Dumbledore begins his speech, I feel Harry's foot slide next to mine, and my eyes dart to his, but his focus stays on the head table. There's an odd, unhappy look on his face as he gazes at Dumbledore. I press my foot against his ever so slightly and feel him return the action in kind. Thank God for robes.

It seems so strange to be this aware of Harry. I mean, I was certainly not unaware of him before, but this is a whole new plane. I glance around surreptitiously, trying to determine whether or not others appear to have noticed anything out of the ordinary between Harry and me. So far, so good, it seems. I have to suppress a smile—this is just a bit fun, having a secret like this.

But then, I remember that there's another secret in this room. A shiver prickles through me, and I'm surprised to realize that I've wrapped my arms around myself. It feels like the dark night sky above is sinking down around me. I try to concentrate on my food, but it suddenly seems too…oily. Just like it did all summer.

My gaze shifts to the other people around us; people who are laughing and talking as they enjoy their dinner. I duck my head, looking back down to my plate. _When will this be finished?_ I put my utensils down, and purposefully lift my head to meet Harry's eyes, seeing my growing impatience mirrored on his face. His knife and fork lay beside his mostly full plate, too.

Finally, we're back in the common room, but still not alone. Some of the older students are lounging by the fire, catching up with friends after the summer hols. Harry sits beside me at one of the tables by the windows, as we make a pretense of trying to study from _The Standard Book of Advanced Charms_ for our classes this week.

Harry keeps shifting in his seat. His thumb taps the same page of his book, endlessly. I've lost count of how many times I've read the same sentence. Ron sits across from us, grumbling about revising before we've been assigned anything, and then stops to study Harry for a moment.

"What're you on about?" Ron asks, his brows furrowing, as he notices Harry's nervous movements for the first time.

Harry shrugs and answers, "Just nervous about the upcoming year, I guess. N.E.W.T. level classes, and all."

Ron lifts his eyebrows now. "Nervous about schoolwork?" Then he turns to me with a smirk, and says in mock disbelief, "What have you done to him, Hermione?"

But before I can come up with a good retort, Harry surprises me by saying quietly, "You'd do well to be a bit more concerned, Ron. I'd think after our experience at the Ministry last year, you'd be after learning all you could."

Ron seems momentarily taken aback at the seriousness of Harry's reply, but then nods, and answers in a subdued tone, "I know…I guess I've just wanted to put that out of my mind for a bit."

Harry's gaze becomes steely, and his voice has a flinty quality. "Ignoring Voldemort won't make him go away—in fact, just the opposite. Look what happened when the Ministry ignored him last year. We're going to have to deal with him again sooner or later; the sooner the better, probably. Just be thankful you're not ..." Harry breaks off suddenly, as though he'd thought better of what he was going to say, then finishes lamely, "…well, just be thankful."

I'm pretty sure the stunned look on Ron's face mirrors mine. I remember Harry's and my conversation on the bridge last night, when he suddenly became serious as we were just talking about school memories. I'm pretty sure that this has to do with what we have to talk about, and I feel my stomach clench.

Ron glances at me with an anxious look, and then looks back to Harry saying earnestly, "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Harry shakes his head, looking frustrated with himself. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just tired, Ron."

"Speaking of which, "Ron answers, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back against his chair, "I think I'll go ahead and turn in."

"All right…'night, then Ron," Harry nods. "I'll be up in a bit—just need to finish something here."

Ron gathers his things, saying, "'Night," then adds, "'Night, Hermione."

"Good night, Ron." I reply, as he makes his way toward the boy's stairs.

I look around the room and am surprised to find it empty, save for Harry and me. Harry's apparently noticed the same thing. Our eyes meet uncertainly.

"Well…" I say hesitantly.

Harry lowers his eyes, seemingly unsure of what he should do next.

"Did…did you want to talk now?" I ask in a small voice.

Harry remains silent for a moment, and then nods almost curtly. "We need to."

"Why don't we move over to the couch?" I ask, standing shakily. It feels as though someone has sewn weights into the hem of my robes.

Harry stands and walks with me over to the couch in front of the fireplace, but doesn't sit down with me. I watch as he hesitates, not meeting my eyes, and then turns abruptly, walking over to stand by one of the windows.

Harry stands there for a moment, looking out into the blackness. I'm forcibly reminded of the first time I saw him yesterday. A look of weariness briefly reflects on his face, and he sighs deeply, fogging the window.

I want to get up and go to him, but I sense that isn't what he wants right now. Finally, he begins to speak.

"There's something you need to know…it's not fair to keep this from you with our relationship changing like this. You need to know what I'm about to tell you before we go any further—before you make any decisions regarding how you feel about me."

"Harry, nothing will—" I begin, but he quickly turns to face me, and my voice dies in my throat as I see the pain in his eyes.

"Please, Hermione. You have no idea…" His voice wavers, and little frissons of fear begin to radiate through my body. He goes on, "Please just let me finish and then we can talk."

I swallow painfully and nod.

After a moment, Harry begins quietly, "Have you ever wondered why Voldemort seems to be after me, personally?"

I nod again, keeping my eyes on his.

Harry suddenly walks over by the fireplace, and then begins pacing. "Well, I'd wondered about that too. I even asked Dumbledore about it at the end of our first year, but he wouldn't give me an answer." He stops for a moment to gaze into the fire, but then continues. "Until last June. Dumbledore finally saw fit to tell me why I seem to be so important to Voldemort, the morning after the battle at the Ministry."

The bitterness in his voice takes my breath away, and I grip the gathers of my robe tightly.

And then he tells me.

 _A prophecy…_

 _Marked…_

There's not enough air in this room.

 _Neither can live while the other survives..._

I'm having trouble hearing Harry now, as though my mind can't-or won't-process any more of this. I can see him talking—see his lips moving, but I can't seem to take this information in.

Is someone crying?

My head drops heavily into my hands. I'm vaguely aware that I'm rocking back and forth in my seat, but I can't seem to calm the spasms racking my chest…

I feel Harry drop to his knees by my legs. Feel his arms go around me. Finally, the words he's repeating over and over work themselves into my consciousness.

"I understand, Hermione…you don't have to…I understand—it's all right…"

His words snap me back from my stupor. Before I know it, I've slid down to my knees in front of him, with my hands on either side of his face, smoothing his hair from his eyes, trying to get him to look at me. When he finally lifts his watery eyes to mine, I hold his gaze for a moment, and then lean forward, rising a bit on my knees, to press my lips gently to his scar.

I lean back slightly to see his face, and see something flicker in his eyes.

"I meant what I said." I whisper, removing his glasses, setting them aside, and then wiping the tears from his face with my fingers. I lock my eyes with his, and say it again for good measure. _"I meant what I said."_

At first, the look on his face is somewhat dazed, but a moment later, there's something in his eyes that I haven't seen in a long time.

"Hermione," he whispers after a long moment of searching my eyes. He takes my hands in his and continues, "remember talking about the light in the painting this morning?"

I nod slowly, confused as to why he's bringing this up now.

Harry continues quietly, "It's like I can feel it when I'm with you." He pauses for a moment, looking down at our hands, and then, lifting his eyes back to mine, says hesitantly, "You're the best thing…" his voice grows just a bit stronger, "…the most amazing thing, in my life." His gaze shifts to my lips for a moment and then he begins to lean toward me.

I've heard about swooning, but always scoffed, attributing that kind of behavior to silly romance novels. I might need to rethink that. It's probably very lucky that I'm not standing right now.

When his lips finally touch mine, it's as though nothing else in the world exists but this sensation of being connected to him. His lips are so soft and warm, and the way he's caressing my lips with his is just…absolutely overwhelming. It ends too soon, and we're left smiling shyly at each other. Harry lets my hands go and wraps his arms around me, drawing me to sit on the sofa.

We settle into each other's arms and I lean my head on Harry's shoulder. My gaze travels slowly around the common room. This used to be such a comfortable place—a place of protection. But now, I know that forever more, this room will be so much more to me. On one hand, it will always be "the place Harry told me"; but the memory of our first kiss, and the unspoken promises we've made to each other will live here, too.

My eyes continue around the room and, suddenly, I realize we're being watched. There's a figure on the stairs leading up to the boy's dorm. It's Ron, sitting on one of steps about halfway down. I can see tears shining on his face, and I open my mouth, but he shakes his head and gets up noiselessly. Shoulders slumped, he heads up the stairs and out of sight.

I'm not sure what to do. But I quickly decide to keep what I saw to myself, as that seems to be what Ron wants. I know we need to talk—all of us—and I know that it's not going to be an easy conversation. Sighing, I pull back just a bit so that I can see Harry.

"We'd better go upstairs," I whisper. "First day of classes tomorrow and all."

Harry nods, gets up slowly, and offers a hand to help me up. I stand and turn to gather my things, but he stops me with a hand on my arm, and turns me toward him.

"Hermione…" I love the huskiness in his voice that I've never heard before. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and although he can't seem to find the words he wants to say, the look in his eyes speaks volumes.

I smile at him, cupping his face in my hands, willing him to know how precious he is to me. We kiss one last time. Why can't everything be like this kiss?

I don't want to leave this place, but I know that people will be wondering where we are, and we need to talk with Ron before anyone else finds out about us.

Harry's hands slide down my arms, gently squeezing my hands, before he releases me and retrieves his glasses.

I turn again to gather my books, and glance up to see our reflections in the darkened window.

Before I head up the stairs, I turn to find him looking at the window, too. His face is taking on the forlorn look it had before.

I put my hand gently on his arm, and wait until he shifts his gaze back to me. "See you in the morning, Harry," I say softly.

He nods, a quiet smile forming on his face. "See you in the morning, Hermione."

ooooo


	3. The Day After

My hand presses firmly along the stones in the wall as I walk up the stairs to my room. I need something to steady me—to help me feel grounded. My world's off-kilter, as though my magnetic poles have suddenly switched places.

A wry smile briefly curves my lips and I shake my head in disbelief. I had no idea when I woke this morning what this day would hold. It's been the most unexpected day of my life; except, maybe, the day I received my Hogwarts letter. My emotions have been everywhere they could possibly go, compressed in the space of twenty-four hours. I'm not sure I'll be able to mentally catch up anytime soon.

Once I get to my room, I'm grateful that the other girls have closed their bed hangings, apparently asleep. I've found that, instead of growing closer the longer we live together, the gap that began between us is steadily widening. Our priorities, which have always been different, are becoming even more separate. I certainly don't want to share any of my day with them. I feel some melancholy creep into my mind at this thought, although I'm at peace with it, too.

I've never been great at relationships with other girls. There was a time when I tried, but had very little good from my efforts in return. These girls weren't friendly my first few months here. I only became "interesting" after Harry and Ron were my friends. A small smile forms on my lips. I definitely got the best deal there.

Which brings me back to Ron. I'm not sure if his response to what he saw and heard tonight was out of fear for Harry, or if he was upset about the change in Harry's and my relationship. Maybe both.

The last thing we want to do is hurt our best friend. Even if he's okay with our dating, things will change, and we all know it. It's as if the angles in our triangle have suddenly shifted. I'm sure we'll be awkwardly off-balance for a time until we get used to this dynamic.

I shake my head, realizing that I've stood in place, going over all this in my head, for the last several moments. A wave of exhaustion tumbles my mind. I don't want to think anymore and I'm so tired, I'm tempted to sleep in my clothes for a second night. I hang up my robes, but then slide the rest of my clothes off into a heap by the side of my bed. My roommates will be scandalized in the morning if they wake before me, but I doubt that will happen. I'm not sure I care, anyway. I sigh as I shut the hangings on this day, then I sink into my bed and pull the covers over me.

My mind drifts through my day. The museum, holding Harry's hand, our car ride, time alone on the train, in the carriage…my lips curve at these memories. But then, others crowd them out. Ron's face in the train compartment, the feast, Harry's expression as he gazed at Dumbledore, the Prophecy, Ron on the stairs…tears prickle my eyes as anxiety creeps through me.

I know I'll never get to sleep with these thoughts running through my mind and I deliberately shift my thoughts to what happened after he told me. What it felt like to have his lips on mine, pressed against him with his arms around me…but there's no escaping the heavier parts of this night, and they crowd out the other memories.

I spend much of the night with fretful thoughts trampling through my mind like Trolls. I wish for some way to banish them, but can't manage it. I try reading by wand light, but can't concentrate. After rereading the same paragraph countless times, I finally open my bed curtains just a bit so that I can see the sky through the window and concentrate on finding constellations. I spot Cassiopeia, and then Perseus. My eyes travel from star to star, connecting the dots to trace their forms. I remember their stories and I feel myself begin to relax.

Before I know it, weak light filtering through the narrow gap in my bed curtains wakes me. Although I've slept some, I'm knackered and my muscles are sore from being so tense in the stress of last night. It's going to be a difficult first day of classes. Maybe I can catch a kip later on.

After a stretch, I shift the hangings out of the way. I was right about my roommates. Their curtains are still closed. I slide out of my covers and, with a quick wave of my wand, yesterday's clothes are in the hamper and my bed is made. I tug on my bathrobe, grab some clean clothes, and head to the shower. The hot water feels wonderful, loosening my muscles some and I consider staying here all morning. But I want to see Harry, too, and that thought prods me to turn off the spray.

As I get ready, I think about the conversation that Harry and I need to have with Ron today. It occurs to me that, when Ron was upset with Harry in the past, he left their dorm room early in order to avoid talking with him. I quickly finish dressing, pull on my robes, and hurry down the stairs. The common room is empty so far and I hope he hasn't come down yet. I find one of our books that we inadvertently left on the table last night and sink into the couch by the warm fire to read. Unfortunately, the next thing I'm aware of is Harry gently shaking my shoulder to wake me.

"Ron's gone," he says worriedly.

I sigh and get to my feet. "I figured he would do that—it's why I came down early, but I fell asleep."

"I guess you slept about as well as I did last night."

I nod and he slides his arms around me and whispers, "Sorry." We rest against each other as I wrap my arms around his middle. He leans to brush his lips against mine, and they linger as he deepens the kiss. My hands rise to run through his hair, which is still damp from his shower, as I return his kiss.

We hear people descending the steps just in time to move away from each other. We frantically try to find something "normal" to do before we're seen. I quickly sit in one of the side chairs and Harry moves away from me to stand by the fireplace.

It's some younger students who pay us little mind as they talk and laugh on their way out the of the common room. Once they're gone, we look at each other and smile, feeling a bit silly.

"I guess we'd better go to breakfast and see if Ron's there," Harry says.

"The sooner we talk with him, the better," I agree.

We walk to the portrait hole and I pull Harry in for a quick kiss before we clamber through and make our way down to the ground floor. Ron's in the Great Hall, already eating when we arrive, and, although the number of students is sparse this early, he's not alone. Neville's seated across from him and Luna is beside him. I suspect this is with purpose and Harry meets my sideways glance in agreement.

I wish Ron wasn't so good at raising barriers when he's upset. He's not going to make this easy on us, and by "us", I mean all three of us.

I'm frustrated by the pains he takes to avoid dealing directly with problems. It's what he did last year when he and Harry weren't speaking because of the tournament. Harry didn't help, but I'm not sure anything Harry could've said would have made any difference. I know that nothing I said changed Ron's mind. He was too willing to believe that he'd been slighted and wouldn't consider any other perspective, no matter what it cost him or anyone else.

I'm determined to not let that happen this time—I'm not going to let this become a drawn-out mess when Harry needs us both so badly. He's got enough to be going on with. I'll do everything I can to avoid adding the loss of his best friend to his worries.

"Morning," Harry and I say as we sit beside Neville.

Luna and Neville return our greeting with smiles, but Ron only nods, and then takes a drink of juice.

"Ready for the first day of classes?" Neville asks, reaching for the bacon.

"I am," Luna says, but her luminous eyes study Harry and me. "You and Harry look tired. Did you have trouble sleeping?"

"A little…" I hedge as I butter a piece of toast, "First night jitters and all."

"Ron had trouble too," Luna reports, and Ron rolls his eyes, annoyed that she announced this information. "Maybe you should check Gryffindor Tower for Ruby-throated Windigs. Their odor often causes insomnia even though it's barely detectable by humans."

"Yes, well…" Harry answers, pouring himself some pumpkin juice while trying to keep a straight face, "we'll have to check into that."

"So," I say, to change the subject, "have the professors handed out any class timetables yet?"

"Not yet," Neville answers, "but maybe soon," he adds as some of the professors begin to enter the Great Hall, along with more students.

We're soon surrounded by other Gryffindors, some of whom give Luna strange looks for sitting at our table.

"I guess I'd better go to my table," she says as Professor Flitwick starts to hand out class information to the Ravenclaws.

"See you later Luna," I say as Neville and Harry also bid her goodbye.

Ron finally speaks to tell Luna goodbye as she gets up.

"Bye," she says, briefly resting her hand on his shoulder, then adding, "I hope you feel better soon, Ron."

"Thanks," he mutters as his ears turn pink.

It's not long until Ginny takes Luna's space at the table. McGonagall appears soon afterwards and hands our timetables to us.

"I've got Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing today," Harry remarks, looking at his classes.

"Me, too," I reply, "and then nothing until Potions after lunch."

"What about you, Ron?" Harry asks. From the look on his face, I can tell he's not sure Ron will respond.

Ron nods curtly. "Same." He keeps his eyes on his paper and doesn't look at us, though.

"It'll be nice, having that break before lunch," I say.

"Yep." Ron says.

"What's with you?" Ginny nudges Ron. "You seem a little off today."

Ron shrugs. "Trouble sleeping last night."

"Something bothering you?" she persists.

"None of your business," Ron says in a low voice. "Leave it, all right?"

Ginny huffs and turns her attention to her food.

Ron pushes his plate away and starts to rise from his seat.

"Where are you going," I ask, surprised.

"To get something," he replies shortly before he leaves.

Harry and I exchange a glance.

"We'd better go check on him," I say to Ginny as Harry and I start to get up.

"Do you know what's bothering him?" she asks.

"We'll talk with him," Harry dodges her question and we make our way out of the Great Hall.

We take as many shortcuts as we can to get to our common room quickly, but it's empty.

"I'll go check in our dormitory," Harry says, starting up the stairs.

I sink into a side chair to wait. After a moment, I hear the portrait swing open. It's Ron. It takes him a bit to notice me. Our eyes meet and his steps hesitate for a moment. I smile tentatively, but he doesn't return it.

"What're you doing here?" he says, lowering his gaze from mine.

"Trying to find you."

He shrugs, still not meeting my eyes. "I told you I had to get something."

I stand and begin to walk to him. "I think we both know that's not why you left breakfast so early."

"Does it matter?"

He tries to slide past, but I take a hold of his hand before he can get by me.

"Very much," I say, waiting for him to turn and meet my eyes before I go on.

He reluctantly turns around as he lifts his gaze to mine, and I take hold of his other hand.

"I don't know everything you heard or saw last night—" (I search his eyes, but he keeps his face carefully blank) "but we weren't trying to hide anything from you."

"Right. How long have you been…together?"

"Since yesterday morning."

Ron's lips tighten and thin as though he doesn't believe me, and I continue hurriedly, "Neither of us had any idea it was going to happen. We needed to figure some things out before we talked to anyone about it, and you were the one that we wanted to talk with first."

"I guess there's no need for that now," he says with contempt. He tries to slide his hands from mine and leave, but I step forward, dart my hands around his middle, and hang on, determined to hold him here.

"Hermione!" he protests angrily, trying to wriggle from my grasp.

"I'm not letting you go," I say heatedly, tightening my grip. My voice is muffled because my face is in the front folds of his robes. I turn my head to the side so that I can speak more clearly. "We need you, Ron Weasley! You're our best friend. I'm not letting you go," I repeat, and my voice cracks as my eyes begin to sting.

I can't deal with this new burden of the prophecy _and_ a rift between the three of us right now. I'm not going to let this happen. My body shakes as I feel tears run down my cheeks.

Ron stands there stiffly for a moment, but then sighs and hesitantly puts his arms around me. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "Don't cry."

"Sorry," I reply squeakily as he awkwardly pats my back and I try to gain control of my emotions.

After a long moment, he says, "It's going to be so weird."

"What?"

"You and him…and me."

"Yes, for a time," I agree.

"I don't know how I'm meant to belong now." His voice betrays sadness, and the tears that I thought were under control begin to sting again.

I tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. "With us. Always with us."

"You say that now, but there'll be times when you don't want me there."

"There will be some times when we'll want to be alone," I concede, "but not because we don't want to be with you."

"But…are you guys going to get all gooey-sweet and snog all the time?"

"Neither of us are really the gooey type, are we?"

"No, I reckon not, but…there will be times when I'm the third wheel."

"I can't promise that some things won't change…it will be awkward sometimes, especially at first until we find our new normal. But one thing won't change, and that's the fact that Harry and I both want all three of us to still be 'us'."

Ron nods and I tuck the side of my head back against his chest.

After a bit, I ask, "Did you hear him talk about the prophecy last night?"

"No," he answers, uneasiness creeping into his voice. "I only saw…" He hurries to add, "I wasn't trying to spy—I was worried that Harry hadn't come to our room yet."

"I know…" I nod against his chest, finally gaining control of my emotions.

"What did the prophecy say?"

Footsteps sound on the stairs and we both turn to see Harry stop in his tracks as he notices us.

His eyes dart from mine to Ron's. "Everything all right?" he asks tentatively.

"I think so," I say, as Ron and I pull apart, but I keep a hold of one of his hands.

"What's going on?" Harry asks worriedly as he walks to us. I take his hand in my other hand as he faces Ron.

I glance at Ron who gives a small nod. "I saw you guys last night," he says, and then adds, "I came back down to see why you were still in the common room."

"What do you mean, 'saw us'?"

"I saw you snogging."

Harry's eyes dart to mine, and then back to Ron. "I'm really sorry, mate. That's not the way we wanted you to find out."

"I know. Hermione's already talked with me about it."

"We know this is going to be odd and uncomfortable at first," I attempt to quickly summarize what Ron and I have already said, "but our friendship is extremely important and we're going to do all that we can to protect it."

Harry nods, then asks hesitantly, "So, what do you think about us being together?"

"I was angry," Ron admits. "I thought you were trying to keep something from me and I felt like a fool."

"We only figured out how we felt yesterday," Harry tries to reassure him. "We needed to get some things straightened out last night, but wanted to talk with you first thing today."

"I know. Hermione told me already." Ron pauses, then shrugs. "I reckon I'm okay with it."

Harry and Ron smile tentatively at each other.

"Hermione said something about a prophecy that we need to talk about?"

The smile slides off Harry's face. He nods and says, "We do."

I check my watch. "Unfortunately, we only have about ten minutes before we need to get to class. Maybe we can talk during the break afterwards?"

"That's probably the best time," Harry agrees in a subdued voice.

We gather our things and make our way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. To my surprise, Snape is the professor of the class now, but it doesn't seem to faze Harry or Ron. I must've missed that announcement last night during the feast when my mind was on other things. I glance at Harry and see his face set, determined to withstand whatever Snape might throw at him.

We take our seats and Ron's a bit surprised when Harry and I sit on either side of him. We don't want to take any chance that Snape might be able to sense the change in our relationship. However, the first class goes fairly well. Snape seems so happy to have finally realized his desire to teach this class that he spends most of his time on the syllabus, telling us what we're going to learn from him. He speaks with an air of superiority as he insinuates that we've learned very little from previous professors.

Snape can pontificate as much as he wants, as far as I'm concerned. He's so busy explaining how wonderful his class is going to be for us, that he's not needling Harry, or even Neville, for that matter. I highly doubt this will last, but I'll enjoy it for today. The bell finally rings to signal the end of class and we join the queue to exit the room.

When we get to the corridor, Harry turns to us and says, "I think the common room isn't going to be very private. How about the tree by the lake?"

Ron and I agree and we head down the stairs, and finally out the doors to the grounds.

I take a deep breath of air and gaze at my surroundings. It's my first time to see the grounds in daylight this year. The sun warms us as we walk towards the water in silence.

Once we're settled by the roots of the tree, Harry repeats the parts of the prophecy. It's hard to hear it again, but Harry doesn't need me falling apart. Ron's eyes get bigger and bigger the more he hears.

Once Harry's finished, Ron whispers, "Merlin…"

"Yeah…" Harry responds, seeming not to know what else to say.

"And Dumbledore knew it the whole time?"

The unhappy expression I saw during the feast last night appears on his face. "He did."

"Why's he only telling you now?"

Harry considers this question for a bit, then answers, "He didn't think I was ready to hear it before."

Ron's eyebrows knit and he seems lost in thought for several moments before saying, "I knew you were really struggling at the end of last year, but I thought it was because of Sirius." Ron sees the pain flit across Harry's face. "Sorry, mate," he says quietly. "I didn't mean to…" Harry shakes his head as though to negate the need for Ron's apology. Ron continues quietly, "I can't imagine having to deal with what Dumbledore told you at the same time."

The three of us sit in silence for a while, but then Ron says, "You'll have my help to beat You-Know-Who, no matter what."

Harry and I both lift our eyes to Ron's.

"Thanks, mate," Harry answers. "Couldn't do it without you."

"Probably not," Ron says with a grin and I snort. "There's more like it," he says, giving me an elbow. I begin to feel as though we're going to be okay and the knots that have been in my stomach since last night start to unwind. I can tell that Harry is visibly more relaxed than he has been all morning. His relief is palpable, now that he doesn't have to carry his burden alone and he has the surety of Ron's friendship.

The breeze shifts and scents from the kitchen wafts around us. None of us had a good breakfast this morning or dinner last night. Our stomachs growl, nearly in chorus, and we laugh.

"Is it almost time for lunch?" Ron asks hopefully.

I check my watch. "About fifteen more minutes or so."

"Why don't we go and put our things away?" Harry suggests. "By the time we do that and get back to the Great Hall, it should be just about time."

We gather our things and stand. As we begin to walk to the castle, Harry's fingers slide between mine. I smile at him and he returns it. I can tell Ron's noticed, but he's trying to nonchalantly ignore it as though it's something he's completely used to.

We push open the big wooden doors to the entry hall and ascend the marble steps. And, although I know there's an awful ordeal waiting in our future, I feel hopeful for the first time in months.

ooooo


End file.
